Page 6 of Beckett

“No, I—” She swallowed, throat working. Her fingers found the strap of her backpack, knuckles going white. “No problem.”

Liar. Whatever game she was playing, whatever trouble followed her to Garnet Bend, I wanted no part of it. I’d seen what happened when you got tangled up in other people’s disasters.

“Audra’s from Seattle,” Lark offered, clearly sensing the tension crackling between us like downed power lines. “Hadsome car problems yesterday but made it here and was open to doing a little work.”

“I see.” Distrust fairly dripped from my words. “How long do you expect to be in Garnet Bend?”

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, barely making eye contact. “I—I’m not sure.”

“Understandable. This town’s not for everyone. Montana isn’t for everyone.” I knew I was being rude, but something about this woman was setting off every internal alarm I had.

Secrets. Top to bottom, she was full of secrets. In my line of security work, secrets almost always meant trouble.

“Beckett’s going to be staying on property for the next couple weeks,” Lark said to Audra, her tone aggressively cheerful now. “While I’m at the conference. So you’ll be working together.”

Audra’s knuckles went from white to bone. The pulse in her throat hammered harder. Working together. Right. The last thing I needed was some runaway with secrets interfering with my nice, quiet two weeks of dog-sitting.

“I should check the kennels,” I said, already turning away. “Make sure everything’s in order.”

“Beckett—” Lark started.

“It’s fine.” Audra’s voice came out steady, but I caught the tremor underneath. Like a guitar string wound too tight, ready to snap. “I should get to work anyway. Those water bowls won’t fill themselves.”

She fled toward the barn, movements quick but controlled. Not running exactly, but not walking either. The gait of someone who’d learned to evacuate without drawing attention.

“That was rude,” Lark said once Audra disappeared into the barn’s shadow. “Even for antisocial you.”

“She’s lying about something.”

“Everyone lies about something.” Lark’s voice carried gentle reproach, the tone she used on skittish rescue dogs. “Doesn’t mean they’re bad people. Sometimes it means they’re scared.”

“Scared people do dangerous things.”

“Speaking from experience?”

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Because Rodriguez’s voice was back in my head, calling out grid coordinates over the rat-a-tat-tat of automatic fire. Because my K-9 partner Rex had alerted, hackles up, and I’d missed it, too focused on the wrong sector. Because scared people did make desperate choices, and I was living proof of how those choices destroyed lives.

“She needs this job,” Lark said quietly. “And I need the help. Can you please just?—”

“I’ll stay out of her way. She stays out of mine. Easy.”

Lark sighed, the sound carrying years of dealing with broken veterans and their sharp edges. “You know, one of these days you’re going to have to stop punishing yourself for whatever happened over there.”

“Maybe.” But not today.

“Fine, but be nice to her, okay? I’m paying her cash, and we both can tell she’s had some shit luck. I wouldn’t be surprised if she bails fast, but as long as she shows up, let her work.”

“When did you meet her?”

“Yesterday. She walked in after running out of gas. To be honest, I was surprised when she showed back up this morning. But I’m glad she did—although more for her sake than ours.”

“I won’t give her any problems as long as she’s doing what you told her to do.”

“Thanks, Beck.”

“Let me get to this, and we’ll touch base more before you leave.”

I headed for the kennels with a nod, leaving Lark standing in puddles of golden light. The dogs greeted me withenthusiasm that didn’t ask questions or demand emotional availability. Duke shoved his massive head through the chain link, demanding ear scratches. Rosie wiggled so hard she nearly levitated.